


PRIDE.

by taetennies



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Lee Taeyong Needs a Hug, M/M, Pining, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Shy Lee Taeyong, Slow Build, dominant Ten, i'll add smut tags when the time comes:D, omg a pun, submissive lee taeyong, taeyong is a big tough baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-08 20:17:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15937517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taetennies/pseuds/taetennies
Summary: Taeyong craved success.He was driven by the prospect of success. Academically, socially, and physically, he wanted to be renowned. He wasn’t afraid to step on somebody’s toes to further himself.But, Taeyong wasn’t always this way. Taeyong was insecure.(or the taeten competitive tennis AU where taeyong is a fake tough baby and ten sees right through him)





	1. FEAR.

**Author's Note:**

> hewwwoooo this is the first fic i've sat down and STARTED in uhhhh mf uhh 4 yrs :o lemme kno if i should continue this bc it was super fun to start!!! :')

Taeyong craved success.

He was driven by the prospect of success. Academically, socially, and physically, he wanted to be renowned. He wasn’t afraid to step on somebody’s toes to further himself.

But, Taeyong wasn’t always this way. Taeyong was insecure.

As a child, he was shy. Incredibly shy. He preferred to be behind the camera during photos, sit by himself during free periods, and keep to himself during his classes. He didn’t cause any trouble, but his peers gave him hell.

He was teased. He was rarely physically hurt, but it got to the point where the teasing and mental strain of the mistreatment was draining him of any desire he had to go to school. On paper, Lee Taeyong was a prime example of an ideal high school freshman: incredible grades, a jaw dropping raw tennis talent, and a kind spirit, but his awkwardness and timidness made him an easy target for his peers. 

Things changed halfway through his first year of high school.

While walking into the parking lot from his last period of the day, a group of upperclassmen he recognized instantly approached him. At the head of the herd was Choi Minho. He was tall, broad, and had a tan, glowing complexion. Although visually, he was stunning, Minho was truly ugly. Taeyong sighed to himself.

“Hey, pretty boy.”

“Hey, Minho,” 15-year-old Taeyong mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the group while briskly walking forward.

“You gonna write that paper for me like I asked you? You don’t have cold feet all of a sudden, do you?”

Taeyong’s breathing faltered, weighing the options in his head. He could definitely write a half-assed paper that would secure Minho a C+ or B-, get him off his back for the meantime, and not deal with the crippling anxiety this situation was causing him.

Or he could have a death wish. 

“Minho, I really don’t think-“

Minho stepped forward, gripping Taeyong’s shirt. “You don’t think what, Taeyong?”

Taeyong took a shaky breath, making eye contact with the older boy for a split second. Minho’s eyes were narrow, brows furrowed, with a sneer plastered onto his face. He seemed like he was a villain straight out of a Marvel comic.

“I.. I’ll think about it.” 

Minho released his grip, gathered his backup boys, and left the parking lot. As soon as Taeyong knew he was alone, he entered his car and let out small, body wracking sobs.

He shakily gripped his phone and took a few deep breaths before dialing the one person who would know what to say. 

“Johnny?”

“Lee Taeyong! Where the _fuck _have you been? I texted you like 84 thousand times! We were supposed to meet at the café right after 7th perio-“__

____

____

“Minho and his crew came up to me after school.”

He could hear Johnny’s breathing stop over the line. 

“Johnny?”

“Taeyong, what did they do?”

Taeyong smiled softly and rolled his eyes. “No, dumbass, they didn’t beat me up… this time,” he laughed. “He just told me to write his biology paper. I told him I’d think about it. Dealing with him is so… draining… I just need to get him to leave me alone. Forever. That’s it. If you’re thinking about planning ahead for my birthday, that’s what I want. Fantastic Lee Taeyong gift idea from the man himself!”

“Taeyong.”

“Honestly, you should write this down. ‘A List of Lee Taeyong’s Only Wishes: literally just for the devil himself, Choi Minho, to disappear for the next 3 and a half years!’” 

“Taeyong, shut up for like 2 seconds,” Johnny groaned, making Taeyong freeze and fall silent.

“If you want to make Minho leave you alone, then give him a reason to. I know you’re shy, and confrontation fucking sucks, but if you can make Choi Minho even think about protecting himself for a few seconds, you’ll win. Make him scared of you, make him want to be you, fuck, even make him want you, and he’ll back off.” 

“Make him scared of me? Johnny, I don’t know h-“

“Use his scare tactics against himself. He won’t know what to do. Fake it until you make it.”

_Fake it until you make it._

Taeyong sighed, thanked Johnny, and hung up the phone. “Fake it until you make it,” Taeyong repeated, making it a mantra that looped inside his head. 

And so, he did. 

Throughout the years following that encounter, Taeyong slowly but surely changed his demeanor. His anxiety hadn’t gone anywhere, but he hid it. He hid it through a style change; almost as if he was playing a role of a character. He became more confident (well, confident in his acting skills) and by senior year, he was the school’s beloved star tennis player with a scholarship to his dream university. 18-year-old Lee Taeyong intimidated his peers. 

Johnny stuck right by his side, but he was always concerned with how Taeyong was truly feeling. Taeyong was always direct and honest with Johnny about his feelings. Johnny never faltered in giving Taeyong his best advice, and even just being a listener for Taeyong was enough. It was the two of them against the world. 

Fast forward 5 years, and 23-year-old Lee Taeyong was ranked as the third best tennis player on the planet. He had always been skilled, but his drive throughout his college years was unmatched. He trained day in and day out, making sure his technique was impeccable. 8 and a half years ago, he never would’ve thought he’d even make it out into the real world. He figured at best, he’d work in an office, or a lab, doing everything he could to keep to himself as much as possible. Through his hard work and dedication to his sport and his grades, he graduated college and was able to pursue his long term dream: professional tennis. 

The fame was great. When it came to endorsements, he was the top paid player in South Korea, and one of the most well endowed players globally. The sport’s physical rigor accentuated his naturally beautiful build, and he was popular in the media for his looks. Boys and girls both wanted to be him and be with him. His doe eyes, sculpted nose, pouty lips, and high brows were enough to get people to kiss the ground he walked on. His image was untouchable and perfect; he wanted to keep it that way. 

There were times where he just wanted to be Lee Taeyong. He wanted to be sheepish and bashful rather than unfazed and jaded. By this point, he had already painted his image for himself: the “tough, relentless, pretty boy.” He had a constantly cool demeanor, and rarely let people see his softer side. He felt as if he’d get hurt if he let the world see his true self. It was a defense mechanism; he felt weak when he was himself in front of others.

He let out a long breath, staring at the wall in front of him. 

**********

“T, wake up.”

“Mark, somebody better be dead for you to be waking me up at this ungodly hour.”

“TY, please-”

The clock on the wall read _5:51 A.M._

Taeyong groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He blinked several times to register his surroundings. Fatigue took over him last night, and he found himself on his living room floor. There was a pillow underneath his neck and his favorite cotton blanket draped on top of his torso. He didn’t even change from his workout clothes the night before. Leave it to Mark Lee, his prodigy in college and now full time assistant, to mother him. 

“This could be something you could view as either much better or much worse than death,” Mark breathed.

 

Taeyong’s eyes sprang open at the tone of Mark’s voice. He was met with Mark looking almost guilty: his puppy dog eyes were out to play. 

“I got an email from Ten’s manager.”

Time began to slow down. Taeyong’s blood ran cold, and his breathing hitched. _Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul_. Ten was Thailand’s diamond in the rough. He’d been ranked number one for 3 years straight, and Taeyong had never even been in the same room as him. He was everything Taeyong wanted to be: charming, witty, outgoing, playful, and flat out _beautiful_. When Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul entered a room, he owned it. Historically, he’d always been extroverted. Even video clips of him as a child exuded confidence. 

But, no matter how “perfect” Ten could possibly be, Taeyong could never be close with him. They were competitors in every aspect of the word. Lee Taeyong was hungry to be ranked #1. It was an absolute stretch (one he’s only ever dreamt of), but if he could ever have the opportunity to defeat Ten, he might be able to secure that spot.

Taeyong craved success. 

“What did it say?”

Mark paused. “He was asking if you’d be interested in doing a photoshoot with Ten before the Australian Open tournament in January.”

_What the fuck?_

Taeyong’s head began to spin at the prospect of spending an entire day with somebody who he deemed untouchable for years. He’s never even had a proper conversation with the man. Lee Taeyong could give you a twelve page, Times New Roman, MLA formatted essay with cited sources about how Ten plays the game of tennis, but he’s never actually played a single proper professional or competitive round against him. Taeyong played against the second best player, Dong Sicheng from Zhejiang (and won once or twice), but never, ever, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul. They always managed to escape each other. Eloquently, Taeyong spat out, “What the fuck?”

Mark stifled a laugh. “Tae, honestly, I have no idea. This is the first time his team has ever tried to contact me, or you, as far as I know. It’s September right now, so it would be wise to do it within the next couple of months. I’m guessing they just want to promote the tournament, which isn’t a bad idea. In fact, we can only gain from this. If you do a photoshoot with him, it could potentially bring you new sponsorships, and it’ll create conversation in the media. It would definitely be a good PR move for us.”

Taeyong blinked again.

“TY, you should definitely think about it.”

Taeyong blinked again, slower this time.

“Tae.”

“Alright.”

 _“Alright?_ ” Mark asked incredulously, shock lacing his tone.

“Alright, yeah, I’ll think about it,” Taeyong mumbled coolly, flipping onto his stomach and feeling the floor tile press into his hip. “Can we talk about this in another hour when normal people wake up?”

Mark stared at Taeyong, dumbfounded. He nodded, knowing Taeyong couldn’t see him, and walked quietly back into the guest bedroom. 

Meanwhile, Taeyong was wide awake, mind swirling, and hands trembling slightly with nerves. He knew just who to text.

**********


	2. YAH.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong resolves an internal conflict.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay OKAYY!! this was.. written spontaneously.. thank u guys for the nice comments ;-; they warmed my hort... i Swear on my life they will Leave the house after this chapter!! ok much Love here's a filler (kinda Spicie filler) ((also please lmk if i should make the chapters longer!! and take a bit more time!! in between!! i start uni in 10 days so i'll def slow down updates then ok ilu))

It was less than a minute before Johnny’s contact picture illuminated his phone screen.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am not creative enough to come up with something _that_ far out of left field,” Taeyong whined.

“Tae, you have to do it.”

Taeyong rolled his eyes, sighing loudly into his microphone. “Okay, listen. Out of everybody you know, if you had to rank the most stubborn people in your life, where would you put me?”

“You’d get first place easily,” Johnny deadpanned.

“So,” Taeyong continued, “what is the one thing I am passionate about besides disinfecting my clothes after you’ve kept them for weeks thinking I won’t notice?”

He heard Johnny muffle his snort. “Tennis, T.”

“Now, think about it. You’re putting the 3 year consecutively ranked number one player in the same room as me. Throughout the past 5 years of playing collegiately and professionally, I’ve wanted that position. I’ve wanted to watch him _fall._ ”

“I don’t see the proble-”

“I’m going to have to remain calm and unbothered for an entire day - maybe multiple days, depending on how they want to organize the photoshoot.”

“Tae-”

“Did I mention he has, like.. pretty eyes? Not to be like _THAT_ person, but-”

He could feel Johnny’s agitation through the phone. “Taeyong, you’re losing me. You were just talking about how you wanted to ‘dethrone’ him of his number one spot. Now he’s Prince Charming?”

Taeyong felt a pang at his heart. “Johnny, I’m overwhelmed,” he sighed. “I’ve just.. He’s somebody that’s been a figment of my imagination, even though I’ve physically _seen_ him. I’ve practiced against him, I know his play so well, but I really don’t _know_ him. As a person. At all. What if, like, he’s the devil? I’m going to have to play it cool, and yeah, I’m not too shabby at that at this point, but I’m nervous. Spending a whole day with your ultimate rival doesn’t seem too pleasant, and if he _is_ the devil reincarnate, I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to keep it together. I’ll either have an anxiety attack or I’ll punch him.”

“Oh, Tae,” Johnny consoled, “it’s going to be okay. If you do take this opportunity and he’s Satan’s personal minion, all you’re gonna have to do is fake smile at him and the camera. You can completely keep your distance from him except for when the photographer snaps the photo. You don’t have to even make small talk. Just remember, you’re only there to take photos. Couples going through divorces still take family photos during the holidays while the paperwork is processing!”

“Shut up,” Taeyong laughed. “You’re weird.”

“I’m right and you know it! But for real, Taeyong, think of it as strictly business. In fact, don’t you think Ten being a dick can only benefit you? You’ll be able to use it to fuel your fire. But, if he’s not this ‘demonic’ character you’ve painted him out to be, then the photoshoot will go smoothly, you’ll get good PR, and you can stare into his _pretty eyes_ for as long as you’d like. Also, you start crying when spiders are in the bathroom. I don’t foresee you laying a finger on Chittaphon even when you’re at your lowest.”

“Business, right. Thank you, Johnny. I love you.”

“Love you. I’m one text away!”

Taeyong hung up the phone with a soft smile resting on his face.

******

Taeyong slowly but surely mustered enough strength to pull himself off of the ground. _Jesus. From now on, I’m never doing extra reps at night_ , he thought, feet dragging against the cool ground. As he entered his kitchen, he fought back yawns and scanned his cabinet haphazardly. He reached for the cream colored container with _BusPIRone_ labelled boldly on the front, groaning quietly to himself. Lee Taeyong hated his neurochemistry sometimes.

Grabbing a bag of frozen peas from the fridge nearby, Taeyong retreated to his couch (second bed at this point), scrolling aimlessly through social media. He placed the bag underneath his good arm, and waited for his elbow pain to alleviate slightly. 

His snapchat feed was boring, twitter was draining, and he’d seen enough of his baby cousin on FaceBook to last a lifetime. He resorted to Instagram as a last resort. Rolling his eyes at the curated versions of his friends’ lives, he clicked on the explore page, and something caught his eye. He reluctantly magnified the image.

Taeyong felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. Displayed on his iPhone was a picture from none other than Instagram user **_tennie96_** , looking positively sinful. Ten was shorter than the person taking the photo, framing his face at a downward angle. The photo appeared to have been taken at Jeongdongjin Beach. _What was he doing in Gangneung_ , Taeyong wondered. Ten was dressed in a white sheer button down with the top two buttons left open, leaving his collarbones and chest line exposed. The shirt hugged his pecs, rosy buds becoming visible through the gauzy fabric. Ten’s honey colored skin was luminous in the sunlight.

His lips were parted, shining, and slightly red, as if he’d been biting them. His mouth was relaxed and the corners of his lips tugged slightly upwards. The resolution of the photo was immaculate; Taeyong felt as if he could see every pore of Ten’s skin. He was wearing light face makeup (enough to cover his peach fuzz), with his cheeks tinted red. Taeyong couldn’t tell if it was blush or slight embarrassment. His full nose naturally curved prettily in all the right places. Chittaphon’s eyes were deadly; a light pink shimmer covered his lid, and black eyeliner smudged the corners of his eyes. His eyes were glossy, and his sultry gaze with stark blue contacts made Taeyong’s skin buzz. Ten’s brows were cleanly filled in, and his hair was out of his face in a neatly formed quiff. Every feature of Ten’s face was absolutely striking. He held such an aura of undisputed sex appeal and power; as if he could snap his fingers and have whatever he pleases. 

He couldn’t take his stare away from Ten’s mouth. In this very moment, Taeyong wanted to hear Ten whisper sweet, dirty, loving nothings into his ear. He yearned to feel Ten’s hot breath fan over his skin. He craved to sense the vibrations of Ten groaning into his neck, letting out raw, pretty noises made just for Taeyong. He wanted Ten to sink his pretty teeth into the sensitive skin under his ear. He wanted Ten to be rough with him; to make him beg for it. Taeyong envisioned Ten’s skilled fingers teasing him, letting his fingertips drag across his jaw, lips, chest, neck. He wanted Ten to make him keen under his lingering, yet oh so fleeting touch. 

Chittaphon’s rosy, chapped lips were stirring up heat in the bottom of his stomach. The mere thought of feeling Ten’s rough lips on his neck, chest, thighs, hips-

“Finally, you’re awake!”

Taeyong’s face flushed as Mark’s voice brought him crashing back down to earth. His mind became fuzzy, and he felt instant regret and shame form as a knot in his stomach. _What the fuck was that?_

Taeyong needed to remind himself of the reality they lived in: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul was his enemy. Always has been, always will be. _Ten is the devil. He’s your archnemesis,_ he thought. _You’re not attracted to him. He’s not even cute._ He shook himself out of the daze, locked his phone, and tossed it to the side.

“Yes, Mark?”

Mark side eyed him for the briefest of moments, but chose to ignore it. “Would it be too soon for me to ask about Ten?“

_Yes._

“Mark, it’s still not even 7 A.M.,” Taeyong whined. “I’ve been thinking about it, but I’m still super conflicted. I just don’t understand why he never wanted to do this for any of our other tournaments. Why is he asking me and not Sicheng? Don’t you think a photoshoot with the number one and two spot alone would make a bit more sense? It’s _so_ bizarre.”

“He did a collaboration with Sicheng last year for the U.S. Open. I think it was for GQ Magazine. Anyways, that doesn’t matter. Taeyong, you know more than anybody else that image is everything. Publicity for your brand and your image is the most important thing for you besides keeping yourself physically conditioned. You’ve worked so hard to become one of the best around the world. In college, you dreamed of moments like this! You’ve wanted to become the best of the best. Why not work with the literal man himself?”

“You’re acting as if I’m not better than Ten,” Taeyong lied. He knew very well that technically, Ten was more experienced. He had more wins under his belt, but Taeyong truly believed and hoped he’d be able to beat him within a few more years. Taeyong promised himself he would; even if it was just once.

Mark rolled his eyes. “Yes, your highness, king of the world. You’re better than Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul,” Mark grinned slyly. “You even have the titles to prove it.”

Taeyong’s eyes widened with feigned shock. “Marcus Lee,” he breathed, “take it back.”

Mark gave a goofy grin, but changed back to his serious demeanor. “Seriously though, Tae. I don’t know why you’re reluctant.”

_He’s my ultimate rival who happens to be absolutely gorgeous. Also, did I mention that I never thought I’d see him off of the court? In the flesh?_

“He’s just.. weird.”

“Weird?” Mark laughed outwardly. “You, Lee Taeyong, have the audacity to call somebody weird? You were making gibberish noises when you thought I was asleep the other night. The public sees you as this untouchable, unattainable, ethereal being, but we both know you’re a walking error.exe file.”

Taeyong turned beet red. If anyone except for Johnny or Mark spoke to him like this, he’d probably have a nervous breakdown. “…You heard those noises?”

“You need to figure this out soon,” Mark continued, disregarding Taeyong’s embarrassment. “A little bird told me he’s in South Korea for the next few days. We could get coffee with him and his team.”

“Is this ‘little bird’ his Instagram page?” Taeyong retorted.

Mark turned quizzically towards him. “No,” Mark slowly responded. “There were paparazzi pictures released last night.”

Taeyong flushed an even deeper red. “Yeah, that’s obviously what I meant. I meant the new released pictures of him. From the media. Social media got a hold of those pictures. God, you know what I meant.”

Mark’s eyebrows raised in slight surprise. “My bad,” Mark mumbled.

“I’ll do it.”

Mark raised his eyebrows higher in shock. “What?”

“I said, I’ll do it.”

Mark opened his mouth to question why Taeyong had changed his demeanor and mind so fast, but he was not about to make Taeyong change his mind. He blurted out, “Promise?” 

Taeyong furrowed his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes at the questioning tone in Mark’s voice. “Do you think I’d lie to you?”

“No, no Tae, that’s great! Okay. Okay, yeah! I’ll- I’ll email his manager. We’ll figure out dates and meeting times within the next few days. Thank you, Taeyong. Well, you should be thanking yourself because in reality I’m doing this for y-"

“Mark.”

Mark took the hint, and walked out of the living room with a spring in his step.

Lee Taeyong sighed to himself, removed the icepack from his elbow, and stretched out in the living room. This was going to be a long week. 

***********


	3. DUCKWORTH.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong gets a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mf UHH.. she's alive? i jus wanted to say thank u so so much for the kind wordssss:D i've been bad abt writing this week but i PROMISE i'll start writing longer chappies!!! ok enjoy

Taeyong grunted as he fell to his knees, sweat falling from his forehead as he finished his round. His racket slipped from his grip as he fought to catch his breath. Still panting, he barked out, “Chenle, get me my Hydroflask.”

With wide eyes, the cherubic 16-year-old bowed quickly and scampered off to Taeyong’s bench. 

Taeyong sighed to himself, yanking the sweat towel from his waistband. He blotted his face quickly, mouth agape as his breathing began to even out. He pushed himself up, knees wobbling as he trudged to his bench. Rubbing his eyes, he heard a hushed voice break the silence. “Here, Mr. Lee. Is there anything else you’d like?”

Taeyong looked up, noticing the uneasiness in Chenle’s voice. He gave a small, tight-lipped smile. “That’ll do.”

Chenle bowed deeply and hurried off the court. 

“Be nice to him, yeah?”

Taeyong sent a nasty glare to the man walking towards him. “Shut it, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun smiled tightly, not meeting his eyes. “Alright, I’m sorry.”

His gaze softened ever so slightly. Jung Jaehyun, Korea’s six-foot-tall wet dream and Taeyong’s old college teammate, was somebody Taeyong practiced with day in and day out. Blessed with gorgeous dimples and teeth you’d only see on a Colgate commercial, his visuals alone were enough to get the toughest of individuals weak in the knees. The two of them had always been relatively close acquaintances, but as of late, Jaehyun had been trying to go the extra mile to make Taeyong feel at ease. 

Ironically, the tables were turned just a couple years prior. As a junior in college, Taeyong kept an eye on the wide-eyed, bushy-tailed freshman. Lee Taeyong had an eye for talent, and he could tell that with just a bit of polishing, Jung Jaehyun would be great. Jaehyun became a standout amongst the underclassmen, and Taeyong recommended to his coach that they pair up for duos. Jaehyun was absolutely stunned that an upperclassman, specifically _Lee Taeyong_ , their best player, even knew he existed. But, they quickly developed a chemistry within their play. During Taeyong’s last two years of college, him and Jaehyun flourished. Lee Taeyong would never admit it, but he enjoyed taking Jaehyun under his wing.

Jaehyun sighed, taking the edge of the bench that Taeyong left empty. He reached over and put a light hand on Taeyong’s shoulder. “Relax,” he spoke, breaking the endless silence. “I can feel your deltoid spasming. What’s going on with you, Yong?”

Taeyong tensed up even more. “I’m fine, Jaehyun. Thanks, though.”

Jaehyun took a tentative breath. “Taeyong. I don’t want to push it, but I can sense your stress even in just your play. You’ve been making careless mistakes - hitting drop shots from behind the baseline? Serving it into the net? It’s not like you, and if anybody knows how you play, it’s me. I’m here for you.”

Taeyong gritted his teeth, annoyance slowly building in his chest. _God, why does he care? Why is he even talking back to me?_ Taeyong shook himself out of his momentary daze, finally meeting Jaehyun’s worried eyes.

“Thank you, Jae,” Taeyong retorted, giving a fake smile that resembled more of a grimace. “I appreciate the concern. I’m good, though. I’m just sore. We were _just_ warming up.”

Jaehyun tensed his hand on Taeyong’s shoulder. 

“TY, I thought that was our final set-”

“I said, we were just warming up, Jaehyun,” Taeyong spat. “I really don’t think I can make myself any clearer. Let’s resume, yeah?”

Jaehyun opened his mouth to argue back, but the edge in Taeyong’s tone was relatively threatening. It was enough to make Jaehyun bite his tongue. He nodded, retracted his hand, and went to his side of the court. 

Taeyong rose from the bench and marched to the service line. He took a deep breath, served the ball, and watched it fall pitifully into the net. Seething, he hurled his racket into the ground, watching the fiberglass bend and the strings snap. He stomped out of the court, huffing out hot breaths and ignoring the concern lacing Jaehyun’s voice as he called out after him.  
********

Taeyong drove home in silence. Lee Taeyong didn’t like silence. There are times, though, where Taeyong’s head would get so loud that only silence could keep him grounded. He felt overwhelmed when there was external noise combating his internal dialogue. Some people preferred to fight fire with fire - focus on an outside noise to drown out the inside noise. Taeyong didn’t mind letting his thoughts get loud, as long as he only had to focus his attention on them. 

When he pulled into his driveway, he looked down at the passenger seat, examining the 8 missed calls he had from Mark. He rolled his eyes, covering his face with his hands. Gathering his composure, he clicked the notification. 

“Taeyong, what’s going on? Jaehyun texted me saying you freaked and left practice early.”

 _Snitch_ , Taeyong thought.

“I swear, the things I do for the both of you never pay off. I should have left you both to suffer in college. Maybe Jaehyun should be my assistant, that way he doesn’t have to rat me out to anybody but himself. Whatever higher power that is potentially out there is literally spitting in my eye-”

“Shut it, drama queen,” Mark groaned over the line. “Jaehyun and I are _eternally_ grateful for your charity work, _Lee Taeyong, King of Tennis_. I’ve been trying to reach you for 30 minutes.”

“And what about it?”

Taeyong could feel Mark pinching the bridge of his nose over the line at an attempt of relieving some stress. “Ten’s team, which may or may not include him, is going to be at your house in thirty minutes. It’s a good thing you came home early, because now you can actually get cleaned up. Originally I was going to have them meet up with us at the coffee shop near your facility as soon as you were done with practice, but-”

Taeyong yanked the phone from his ear, frantically pressing the bright red button, feeling his heart pound through his chest. _I’m gonna kill Mark_ , Taeyong concluded.

He felt nausea creep up on him, thinking about the _absurdity_ of the entire ordeal. Taeyong knew Ten was in the country, but he had absolutely no idea that he was this close, or that Mark had even been seriously communicating with his team. It took less than a day for them to organize a meeting, which is _unheard_ of. People like Ten normally had schedules planned months in advance, especially when it came to overseas activities. _He had to have cleared his schedule for this_ , Taeyong thought. The mere idea of Ten squeezing a time slot for Taeyong made him even more nauseous. _This can’t be real_. Through shaky fingers, he hesitantly sent Mark a text.

**You’re not fucking with me, right?**

**You have 27 minutes now, Tae. I’ll be there soon.**

Taeyong felt like he was standing at the top of a mountain of emotions, mostly comprised of fear. He bolted out of the car, barely pressing the lock button. As he continued to insert the wrong key into his door lock, his shaky fingers dropped the keychain. He listened to the tiny _clink_ as he watched the metal hit the ground. Although it was one simple mistake, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. He felt tears start to well up in his eyes. After so many years of trying to face Ten, he was mere minutes away from his house. His _house_. Taeyong softly whined, trying to postpone his emotional breakdown. _You can cry later,_ he promised himself.

He bit his lip, picked up the chain, and finally unlocked the door, albeit clumsily. Stumbling across the cold tile floor, Taeyong practically ripped his clothes off and hurled himself into his shower. He felt the cold water hit his skin and watched as goosebumps appeared. He briskly ran shampoo through his hair with one hand, and simultaneously half-heartedly attempted to exfoliate his skin with the other. After a few minutes of scrambling in the shower, he speed-walked into his bedroom, trying to find an appropriate outfit. Water droplets fell from his hair and onto his outfit choices as he lazily tried to dry himself off. He let out a small whine, realizing his favorite Balenciaga shirt had been drenched. Taeyong hastily grabbed a baby pink shirt and ripped black skinny jeans, trying to get his hair relatively neat by running a nervous hand slick with gel through it. 

As he walked back into the bathroom, he winced at the dark circles underneath his eyes. He looked like a wreck: dripping wet hair, dull skin, and hair styled so lazily that he could feel his designer’s disappointment from miles away. Taeyong quickly slapped primer on and buffed concealer into his skin, watching his skin absorb the products nice and quickly. He lazily applied some eyeliner and hoped his guests would find him relatively presentable. 

He heard a doorbell ring, and his bones rattled. Taeyong sighed, shut his bedroom door, and walked calmly to the front of his house. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and saw a familiar face. Without hesitation, he muttered, “Mark, I’m going to _murder_ you-”

Mark’s eyes widened in suspense. Cutting him off and speaking at an obnoxiously loud volume, he calmly said, “Taeyong, hi! Our guests are walking up the driveway. How are you feeling, bro?”

“They’re _here_?” Taeyong whispered, shooting Mark a look that could kill. Taeyong glanced over Mark’s shoulder and felt his chest collapse. 

Walking up to his front porch was none other than Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul and a man Taeyong didn’t recognize. Ten was decked out from head to toe in all black with a long-sleeved button down, black skinny jeans, and heeled boots. He had on light face makeup and had filled in his brows. His lips were a pretty light pink color; as if he was coordinating his lip balm with Taeyong’s shirt. When Taeyong took a closer look, he thought he saw a tiny bit of mascara cover his lashes and liner smudge his waterline. He looked delectable. Taeyong felt his ears tint red, trying to avert his gaze. 

Mark noticed the lingering stare, giving him a cheeky look and whispered, “Not too bad so far, right? You’re breathing, right? This is gonna be fine, TY.”

Taeyong ignored him, composing himself quickly. He was Lee Taeyong. Ten was here for business. This was professional.

Ten appeared at Mark’s right side, bowing in front of Taeyong. “Lee Taeyong, it’s a pleasure. I’m Ten. We’ve met before, right?”

Taeyong returned the bow. “We’ve met once or twice before, yes. Last year we had a couple practice rounds against each other before the 2017 U.S. Open. Your play was alright, I guess,” he replied, internally cringing at the last remark. His usual aloofness sounded arrogant and bigheaded in front of somebody of Ten’s stature. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Mark furrow his brows, as if he was saying, “play nice.”

Ten bit back a sly smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment, considering the fact that I beat you in those rounds.” Taeyong’s demeanor faltered as he felt his face flush red, averting his gaze to the ground. He could feel Ten’s eyes on him, which made his embarrassment feel eternal. Taeyong was so internally conflicted. 

“To be fair, Chittaphon, we didn’t keep score for the last one.”

“Anyways, let’s not dwell on the past,” Ten replied smoothly. “Let’s talk about the future.”

Taeyong nodded, but his gaze flickered to the man in his driveway. “He’s Doyoung,” Ten said, breaking the brief silence. “He’s my manager. If I have everything straight,” he started, taking note of the way Taeyong’s eyes darted at the word, “he’s been communicating with Mark about us meeting for the past 24 hours. Us meeting today was a spontaneous decision, but it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while now.”

Taeyong’s eyes widened at Ten’s words, feeling his head get slightly fuzzy. _Since when has Ten even thought about me?_ Taeyong ran a hand through his hair, feeling the product he lazily put in move slightly. He internally mustered up the courage to make eye contact. He stepped forward. “Why is that, Ten?”

The corners of Ten’s lips curled slightly and his eyes narrowed momentarily, as if he was hiding something. Quickly, he blinked a few times, and said, “I’m a bit intrigued by you. I know pretty much everybody else who is ranked within at least the top 10, but when it comes to you, I’m clueless. I think it would be in both of our best interests if we changed that. Plus, PR is PR. We can both benefit from a bit of promotions together, right?” 

Taeyong scrunched his nose. “Intrigued? I’m a person, not a piece of artwork.”

Ten opened his mouth to quickly retort, but he closed it just as fast. He smiled prettily. “Sorry to make you feel objectified. You’re just Lee Taeyong, aren’t you?”

Taeyong, for what felt like the thousandth time today, felt his cheeks turn pink. There was an uncomfortable silence. 

“Let’s come on inside, shall we?” Mark quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll get us all something to drink.”

Taeyong nodded, opening the door further and brushing against Ten’s hand momentarily. Taeyong involuntarily shivered, hating his body’s instinctual response to Ten’s touch. He hoped Ten hadn’t noticed, and fast-walked inside. Ten side-eyed him for the briefest of moments, but trailed inside on Taeyong’s heels.

**********


End file.
